Adored
by emily.down
Summary: AU. Eighteen-year old Aurora Stone meets thirty-five year old Killian Jones. She's in high school. He's unavailable. A destructive obsession pulls them together.
1. Chapter 1

_Right, so this will be a dark one. Just a fair warning; it's going to get ugly and messy and raw. Maybe not to the extreme, but it's definitely that kind of story. _

_So if you're into that, I hope you'll give this a try._

_This is AU which means no supernatural stuff, no magic, no kingdoms and no parents who are as young as their kids. I won't go into too much detail about the changes because they'll become obvious as the story progresses, but keep in mind this is not going to follow canon. _

_Enjoy and share your thoughts!_

* * *

I don't have to sell my soul

He's already in me

I don't need to sell my soul

He's already in me

Stone Roses - _I Wanna Be Adored_

* * *

"Maybe you should just shut up already!" Aurora shrieked, bursting through the door with the force of a thousand storms.

"Shut up about what? The truth? Wouldn't that be convenient!" Phil shouted back, following her from a distance.

Aurora was almost running now, her small feet skidding dangerously across the ice.

She hated winter. She hated having to walk back to her house with all these voices screaming in her head. She wished everyone could just disappear.

But Phil was still following her, even though he had forgotten to put on his coat and was trembling from the cold. She momentarily appreciated his stubbornness.

"I don't want to hear it anymore," she said over her shoulder.

"That's too bad, because I'm not done yet. Aurora, stop! You can't run away from this!"

He pulled her arm, but she wrenched away.

"I'm not running! Look, I've made my decision and you can't change my mind."

"This isn't you, all right?! You would never do this to yourself."

Aurora was fuming.

"Who do you think you are to tell me what I'm like?"

"Your friend, Rory. Your friend," Phil said, stammering from the cold.

"Then as a friend, kindly back off," she retorted.

"I can't. Because you're making a big mistake."

"It's _my_ mistake to make then. Not yours. You don't see me controlling _your_ life."

"I'm _not_ trying to control you. I'm trying to help you."

"Thanks, my parents have already told me the same thing."

Phil gaped at her.

"So it's official. You've told your parents."

Aurora sniffed, looking down.

"They're threatening to kick me out."

Phil's eyebrows rose. "And that…doesn't concern you at all?"

Aurora shrugged in a self-deprecating manner.

"I don't know what concerns me anymore."

"_This_. This should concern you, Rory."

"Don't. Don't be like them. I've heard it all. I've heard all their stupid speeches about responsibility."

"I'm not giving you a speech. Jesus, why is it so cold?" he said, rubbing his hands together.

Aurora sighed.

"Go back inside, Phil. We'll talk tomorrow, when we're both calmer."

"I am calm!"

Aurora raised an eyebrow. People all around them had paused from whatever they were doing and were staring at them, waiting to see what happened next.

_Storybrooke has nothing better to do, as usual_, she thought, pulling a face.

"Don't you wanna get out of this town anymore?" Phil asked dismayed, almost as if he had guessed her thoughts.

Aurora looked away.

"We had a plan, you and I. We were gonna ditch Storybrooke and survive this college experiment together. Remember, Rory? Remember that? What happened to that plan?"

"I'm not that girl anymore."

* * *

_Six months earlier _

Mary Margaret Blanchard waved a hand in front of her face.

"Earth to Aurora. Are you even listening to me?"

She had been spacing out. It wasn't her fault something was happening right across the street. Something new.

Nothing ever happened in Storybrooke. Nothing, until now.

Mary turned to look at what she was staring.

A yellow bug was parked in front of Granny's Diner. It brought a splash of color to the otherwise bleak September weather. An equally colorful young woman threw back the door and walked out.

Mary Margaret gasped.

"Emma?"

Aurora's mouth fell open. "That's Emma Swan?"

She hadn't recognized her.

Then again, the last time she had seen her, which was eleven years ago, Aurora had been seven. She still had vivid memories about it, though. She remembered being in awe of the pregnant girl walking down the street with her head high. She remembered worshipping this goddess with golden hair.

And yet, she hadn't even recognized her.

Maybe she needed glasses. Maybe Emma had changed to a great extent. She still sported the same enviable blond curls and hourglass figure, but she was definitely no longer a teenager. She had filled out. She had matured. She looked aged and confident. She looked like she had seen and done things. And she was wearing a fabulous red leather jacket.

Aurora wondered if she'd ever look like that once she left Storybrooke, once she actually started doing something with her life.

Mary Margaret rose from her chair.

"I'm sorry, Aurora, I know we planned to work on your algebra portion for another hour, but I'm afraid we're going to have to rain check."

"That's fine, I'm not in a very productive mood anyway," she replied, still looking out the window.

Mary Margaret noticed how enthralled she was.

"Do you want to come with me and say hello?"

Aurora didn't hear the question. Someone else had gotten out of the car. Emma Swan had brought someone with her.

He was tall, bearded, in his thirties, and his scarf was chequered red and black. He leaned against the car and took out a cigarette and a lighter, glancing about him with a sardonic look in his eye. He kept one headphone inside his ear.

"Aurora?"

She shook her head.

"No, um, I don't think that's a good idea. I'm just a stranger, after all."

Whereas Mary Margaret was a friend. In fact, Mary Margaret had been very close to Emma Swan, once upon a time.

"Nonsense. No one's a stranger in this town. She'd be happy to see you," she insisted.

Aurora bit her lip.

"I'll catch up with her later. You should be the one to talk to her first."

Mary Margaret conceded, finally. She took out some money from her purse and insisted on paying for their hot chocolates. She promised to make up for their lost time next week.

Then she said goodbye, and left the diner.

Aurora let out a breath of relief. She wasn't happy that her study session had been cut short. She usually enjoyed these meetings. She was happy because she was alone with this new sensation. She peeked over her shoulder at the yellow bug.

He was still leaning against it, still smoking in an indifferent manner, as if nothing could ever faze him.

It seemed absurd that he was here, in Storybrooke of all places.

He belonged in a movie. He belonged in a fictional world where someone this alluring could actually exist.

Emma ran to Mary Margaret and they both hugged for a full minute.

Aurora's eyes never left the stranger's figure.

She had never experienced such a strange pang of desire before. Of course she'd had crushes and felt attraction for different boys in her life, but this was something different, something scary and unfamiliar. This wasn't a boy.

She almost wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She felt embarrassed, ashamed even. As if everyone in the diner could tell what was happening.

She resented the stranger, even hated him for making her feel like this.

But she was wrong. The whole diner wasn't staring at her. They were staring at Emma Swan.

Ruby had stopped making rounds and was standing by the doorway, trying to eavesdrop on Emma's conversation with Mary Margaret.

Aurora realized she was acting ridiculous. The only reason she felt such a pull towards him was because he was a mystery, a novelty. She knew everyone else in town, except him. That was the only explanation.

_I have to get out of here_, she thought.

Gathering courage, she grabbed her bag, put on her jacket and walked out of the diner briskly, looking straight ahead.

She'd make a clean exit and avoid looking in the yellow bug's direction.

She'd go home and have dinner with her family and the next day, she'd hear all about Emma Swan and the mysterious stranger, because by then, the news will have spread all over town. And she'd just shrug and say "that's neat" and leave it at that.

That was the plan. It was safe. It was going to work.

She took out her phone, pretending to text as she walked down the street.

_Phil, you're never gonna believe what happened_, she typed, even though she was never going to send the message.

And then she dropped her phone, because she had run into a solid body.

He bent down to pick it up quickly.

"Shit, sorry, didn't see you there. Here you go."

She stared at him wide-eyed. She was sure her lips had parted and she looked like a moron. But she couldn't do anything about it. Her brain had stopped functioning.

He smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you going to take it, or…"

"Oh, God, yeah, sorry," she stammered, grabbing it from him clumsily, touching his fingers in the process. They were warm and rough.

"It's okay. Does this place have any good coffee? We've been driving for hours and nothing decent so far."

That's when she realized he was pointing at Granny's Diner. The second thing she realized was that he had an accent. A foreign accent.

"Uh, yes, good coffee, um, definitely, yeah, I mean, not spectacular, but great either way, go for it," she blabbered, looking down at her newly recovered phone.

He smiled again.

"Okay, thanks, I'll be out of your hair then."

"Bye," she muttered, going round him, making sure she wouldn't bump into him again. And then she bolted.

She simply ran.

As if her life depended on it.

Maybe it hadn't been the smoothest exist, but she didn't know what else to do. She had panicked and she had felt breathless. She didn't like feeling breathless.

The stranger looked after her with a startled expression on his face.

_Strange girl_, he thought.

But then he shook his head, smirked, and stepped inside Granny's Diner.

* * *

When Aurora finally got home, she didn't bother to say hello to her parents or make her presence known. She jumped up the stairs to her room and locked herself inside.

She threw herself on the bed and pressed her face in her pillow.

She felt hot. She felt cold. She felt stupid. She felt great.

And she knew she was in trouble because the pang was still there and it wasn't going away very soon.

She could still picture him, standing in front of her with an amused expression on his face. She recalled the shape of his lips when he smiled and the way he had tilted his head at the diner. His fingers on her fingers, briefly.

The sensation made her want to touch herself. She closed her eyes and let it envelop her. Everything else disappeared.

That evening, she didn't come down to dinner as usual. She told her parents she wasn't feeling well. Her mother thought she was working herself too hard with school and preparatory classes. Her father thought she was not getting enough sleep, because she stayed up online every night. And her tabby cat, Sleeping Beauty, thought she was just lonely and needed a boyfriend.

"It's just one of those days, you know," she told them, waving her hand dismissively. "Nothing to worry about."

She considered calling Phil later, but she realized this wasn't a boring school problem or some sad Sherlock gifset she'd seen on tumblr.

_No. No, I can't share this with anyone. He won't understand. _

She knew she wouldn't be okay. She wouldn't be okay until she got back to her boring routine in her boring town with the same boring people she knew.

She wouldn't be okay until Emma Swan and her mysterious stranger left Storybrooke.


	2. Chapter 2

_Second chapter since I have some time to spare and some ideas to churn out.  
_

_Thanks to **Guest** and **lauren** for reviewing, I'm glad you're both enjoying the story so far. _

* * *

Much to her dismay, there was little talk about Emma Swan next morning at breakfast. Her parents were stubbornly engrossed in their morning paper and pancakes and appeared to give it little thought.

Which was odd.

Her parents usually loved to dissect any new topic that broke the peace and quiet of Storybrooke, so for them to hold back on such a story was suspicious.

"Yesterday was pretty eventful, wasn't it?" Aurora tried, when she realized they were going to remain stubbornly quiet about it.

Her mother flicked off crumbs of toast from her napkin.

"Depends on what you consider eventful," she replied evenly.

"Well," her daughter continued, fidgeting nervously in her lap, "I never thought she'd ever come back here, you know. No one did."

Her mother looked up.

"You don't mean the Swan girl, do you?"

Aurora reddened. Of course she meant Emma and her mom _knew_ she'd meant Emma, which made it all the more infuriating that they were playing this game.

"Who else?" she asked impatiently.

Her father, who had been browsing the cinema schedule in the newspaper, trying to choose which animated movie would become the reason for the next family outing, suddenly stopped and extended a fat hand across the table, reaching out and tapping Aurora's.

"Don't trouble yourself over that, sweetie. She'll be gone in less than a week."

"I don't want her gone, I'm only curious. Aren't you?" she asked, trying to keep her cool.

"Not particularly, no," her father replied. "People have always made her out to be more interesting than she really is. She's not a celebrity."

Aurora frowned, feeling completely disoriented.

"I didn't mean it like that. I know she's not - wait, what do _you_ mean, about her not being interesting?"

Her mother took over the conversation.

"What your father means is that there is no reason why we should care some stray girl is back in town. Now eat your cereal. Big day ahead of you."

* * *

"I don't get it, Phil. You should've seen them, all indifferent and casual, like they didn't give a crap. It's weird. I _know_ they care. I know they have something to say. Their silence means something."

Phil tapped his chin pensively. He wrinkled his nose at the smell coming from two seats further. A younger boy had just unwrapped a particularly nasty-smelling ham sandwich.

Aurora could feel it too.

She was beginning to regret her conscientious decision not to learn to drive. At the time, she had been thinking about pollution and about how we need to encourage public transportation.

But these days, it was getting harder and harder to stand the school bus.

"I could be wrong, but I think there's more to this than Emma Swan being back in town."

Aurora rolled her eyes. "That's your big conclusion? Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"No, you don't get it. My parents had a bigger reaction, sure, but they were pretty quiet about it too. In fact, the only people really talking about it openly is people our age."

"You're saying that there's some secret agenda us "youngsters" don't know about?"

Phil shrugged. "I could be wrong."

"Well, if what you say is true, then we're going to get our share of gossip in class."

* * *

Aurora wasn't wrong. The rumor mill was up and going. Once they entered the hallowed halls of Storybrooke High, the only talk they heard, left and right, was Emma Swan and her mysterious appearance in town.

There were various theories floating in the air, but none of them seemed to hold water. Emma had no living relatives left in Storybrooke. She had been brought up by an aunt who had died seven years before. Emma also had very few loyal friends left in town. So it didn't make sense for her to drive all the way from New York just to see them. Some liked to go with the simplest approach, the "Occam's razor" of the problem: she just missed her home town.

"She could've just bought a few postcards or looked up Storybrooke's facebook page online if she felt that nostalgic," Mulan commented scathingly over lunch. She was the third musketeer to their group. Phil and Aurora always joked about not needing to find the fourth, because Mulan had a big enough personality for two.

"Nothing beats the real thing, though," Phil argued.

Mulan gagged. "Oh yeah, nothing beats the smell of mold every time you walk past the town gazebo."

Aurora chuckled. "It does have a certain charm."

"Let's face it, the real reason Emma Swan is back in town is to show off. To prove to the people who doubted her that she made it out of this dump and got where she is despite their judgment."

Aurora smirked. "You sound like you don't know whether to admire or hate her."

Mulan smiled proudly. "Are you kidding me? She's awesome."

Aurora used to think so too. Every young girl did. Now, though. Now she wasn't so sure anymore.

"And what would she flaunt exactly?" Phil asked. "That yellow bug?"

Mulan rolled her eyes. "Phil, you're a guy so I'll excuse your lack of imagination this once."

"Hey!"

"What Mulan means," Aurora began, feeling like her mother, "is that you don't understand how being a successful, independent woman in her late twenties with a great body and a life of her own in New York can make others envious."

"You're forgetting something," Mulan added, popping a chip in her mouth. "The hot boyfriend."

Aurora blinked.

She blinked twice.

Something was caught in her eye.

She realized it was an eyelash. She managed to pull it out, although she couldn't help the tear that escaped the corner of her eye.

"You okay?" Phil asked.

"Uh, yeah, just dirt in my eye. What hot boyfriend?"

Mulan stared her down. "You mean you don't know."

Aurora shook her head, feigning complete ignorance. She hadn't told either Phil or her about yesterday's encounter and she felt grateful she had resisted the temptation to confess.

"Ruby told me all about him this morning. Apparently, he's a fine piece of ass. Her words."

Aurora choked back the soda and tried to breathe.

"Well, you know Ruby..." she trailed off, dabbing a napkin at her lips.

"I trust her. Ruby and I may not share the same style, but her taste in guys is top notch," Mulan continued, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Phil groaned. "Can we please move on to something else?"

"What's the matter, Phil? Feeling outnumbered?" Mulan teased.

"You don't see me talking about how hot Emma Swan is, so stop -"

"Shocker! You think Emma's hot! What is she, ten years older than you? Of course you find her attractive."

"Shut up, that has nothing to do with it!"

Aurora smiled wanly. She usually loved it when Mulan and Phil teased each other - although it was mostly Mulan who did the teasing - because it was fun to watch two people bantering like in a 40s screwball comedy.

But today, she just couldn't stomach it.

"What do you think, Rory?"

She looked down, trying to appear uninterested.

"Can't say. Haven't seen the guy. I'll tell you when I have visuals."

"We could always look him up," Mulan suggested. "Maybe Emma's facebook will tell us something. He's probably mentioned at relationships."

"Why do you instantly assume he's her boyfriend?" Aurora asked, nibbling at her pasta.

Mulan scoffed. "Come on. Do I have to spell it out for you? Ruby told me they took a room for two."

Aurora felt she'd be sick any moment now.

Yesterday she had enjoyed simply knowing him, knowing she desired him. She had reveled in that feeling of wanting and hadn't cared about anything else.

Today, she realized she had purposely turned a blind eye on some obvious facts.

Such as the fact that he was clearly taken. And that his girlfriend was the amazing, enigmatic and brilliant Emma Swan.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," she muttered.

"So, to recap," Phil began, "she's here to give us the middle finger."

"Seems like it. Lucky girl, if you ask me," Mulan replied.

Aurora frowned. She remembered the way Mary Margaret had embraced her friend, the way she had grinned at the sight of the blonde in the red jacket. She remembered Emma smiling back.

"I don't think that's the whole picture. I think she's here for someone in particular," she blurted out.

Maybe it wasn't Mary Margaret, but Aurora felt there was another reason behind it. It was only an intuition, but a strong one.

Mulan raised an eyebrow.

"Okay...?"

Aurora waved it off. "It's just theories. We'll find out the truth soon enough."

"What do you mean?"

"It's Storybrooke. She can't go by unnoticed, can she?"

Mulan nodded. "Yeah. She definitely won't. Nor will her fine boy-toy, for that matter. Actually, I hope I see plenty of them."

Phil made a face. Aurora tried to dismiss the comment with a smile and a shrug, but her face felt hot and her head was pounding.

"Come on, let's go outside for a bit," she told them.

Phil and Mulan exchanged a look, but followed her wordlessly.

* * *

Aurora lay down on one of the benches on the freshly manicured lawn. She looked up at the sky while she played with her hair.

Phil and Mulan sat down on the grass.

It was their thing.

People thought they were weird, but they had built their own system. Phil and Mulan shared a love for the outdoors. Aurora hated the ground and mostly liked to stare at the sky.

They worked it out between them.

Phil was showing Mulan a new site he'd found about Chinese weaponry. He knew she was a fan.

Aurora was tuning in and out of the conversation.

She was rewinding yesterday's scene, sifting it through her new perspective. He belonged to someone else. The fingers she had briefly touched were someone else's.

_Oh, God, why do you care?_

Yes, that was the question.

Because this wasn't just about his good looks, or his older age, or the air of mystery surrounding him. If it were just that, you'd think by now she'd move on.

_You had your fun yesterday. Get over it._

It was so easy to tell yourself you didn't care. So easy to tell yourself he was just the forbidden fruit you craved because you were young and stupid. She kept muttering it under her breath, but nothing really changed.

"Rory?"

"Hmm?"

"Bell's rung."

"I just need one more minute."

"You sure?" Phil asked. "Miss Longhorn is a hardass."

"Go on ahead, I'll catch up in a bit, okay?"

"Can't blame the girl for avoiding Chemistry," Mulan commented.

They left her on her own, eventually. They knew how stubborn she could be when she was spacing out.

Aurora sighed and closed her eyes as the sound of steps and laughter receded. The kids were all going back inside.

She felt the wind sweep her hair over her face. She tasted the dry autumn air on her lips. A drop of rain fell on her forehead. Then another.

One of her legs slid down and swung back and forth in the air, her boot drawing crooked lines in the dirt.

She felt weightless.

If she opened her eyes right now, it would start pouring. She knew that she had this ability, to start the rain by looking at the sky.

At least, that's the lovely story her mother used to tell her when she was little.

She turned her head sideways and thought,_ if I look at the street, it won't start._

Cars rolled by in a dull succession of blacks, blues and whites. An old lady was walking her dog. Someone pushed open the door of a grocery store.

Everything was as it should be.

_Stop being silly and go back to class_, she thought, trying to pull her body up.

But it felt so nice to just lie there. Some days, she thought she didn't want to leave Storybrooke, after all.

Every young person she had met wanted out, but maybe here and now, in this moment, it was all right to live in a small place where everything was warm and known and intimate.

She felt like touching herself again, but she knew it would have to wait until she got home. She even knew it wouldn't bring as much pleasure as simply lying here and watching everything pass her by.

Her own passivity turned her on, strangely.

It was as if she were being carried away on a wave to an unknown end and she had decided to show little to no resistance.

The problem was, this feeling couldn't last. Inevitably, it evolved into something small and dull and meaningless. It became a sort of stupor.

Sooner or later, she'd have to get up.

She had almost made up her mind to rise, when she spotted a familiar face, coming round the corner.

She froze back down on the bench.

He was walking, alone this time, no headphones, no chequered scarf, bag of groceries in his arms and a plain jacket on his shoulders. And yet he still looked incredibly aloof and charming and just _not from here_.

_Now I'm seeing him everywhere. Great. I've gone insane._

But the figure did look oddly real to her.

She felt her stomach contract painfully. Lying down like this no longer felt comforting. It felt dangerous, vulnerable.

Another raindrop fell on her chin, this time.

She wiped it off with her finger. And then, out of the blue, she placed it in her mouth and licked it off, tasting the sweetness of the rain.

Her finger lingered on her lips.

She was too scared to look sideways again.

But she did.

And she realized, heart pounding in her chest, that he had stopped at the red light and was watching her.

She wasn't sure if he could see her very well, but he was looking in her direction and his eyes were deep and bright and that made her feel elated.

She had no idea whether this was her head playing tricks on her, but she didn't care.

He was there and he was paying attention to _her_.

She looked back up at the sky and saw the clouds rolling in angrily.

The raindrops fell harder and harder. She smiled and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue.

Her leg still swung back and forth in the dirt.

Her whole body was moving with the rain and only a trained eye could see the small shivers. She was not trembling from the cold. She was trembling from excitement.

When she sneaked a look at the street again, however, he was gone.

The air went out of her lungs with a strong _woosh_. It was like being shaken awake.

It had all been in her head, after all. Proof of a rampart imagination.

And just like every time she was alone in her room and fantasized about various boys in various situations, she felt stupid, awkward and embarrassed in the aftermath.

She got up stiffly, rubbed her back and pulled her hair up. It was raining hard now. She was drenched.

Aurora ran back inside, biting the inside of her cheek, as she was wont to do when she felt awful.

It was weird how she could go from such strong happiness and excitement to complete disappointment.

She arrived late in class and Miss Longhorn reprimanded her, deducted points and made her stand in front of the class and explain to her colleagues how she'd solved today's homework.

But Aurora was prepared. She wiped the drops from her forehead and began reciting the formulas absentmindedly, as she looked out the window from time to time to check if the rain was still there.

When she was finally allowed to sit back down, Mulan made a thumbs up gesture at her and grinned, as if Aurora had pulled a prank on the teacher by showing up soaked to the bone and knowing the answers to her questions.

Aurora slid in her seat and stared down at the dirt on her boot.

* * *

Emma Swan did not like to talk much in bed.

He'd grown used to that. It was one of the things he liked about her.

She got straight to the point and didn't waste any time.

Her monosyllabic answers, therefore, didn't alarm him.

When she was ready to talk, she would do it without her hand on his cock. For now, she probably wanted a distraction, which he was only too glad to offer.

He didn't take offense. This was also how she showed affection.

"Thanks for the dinner. It was great to eat actual cooked food," she murmured in his ear.

"No problem, love."

And that was all they said until they both came several minutes later. She gasped, but otherwise was quiet. He growled into the hollow of her neck. They were never too loud.

Hands still on her hips, he looked at her smooth skin and admired the way it seemed to glow from within.

"No progress today?" he asked, knowing he was probably not going to get a full answer.

She shook her head, grimacing, and rolled off him.

But she returned in his arms a few moments later, only her back was turned to him.

He spooned her body, his mouth on her hair and his arms around her waist. It felt good to lie like this, like they were just your average couple.

"It rained this morning," he mentioned out of the blue.

She muffled something in her sleep.

He smiled, knowing she was already nodding off.

"Made me think of you," he added, closing his eyes.

Behind his eyelids, he could already see her again, that strange girl from the diner. The memory came to him unbridled.

She was lying down on that hard bench. Maybe she had fallen asleep there. Maybe she was daydreaming. Water was pouring down _on_ her and _from_ her. She was trying to taste the rain. She had her tongue stuck out, like a child, like a moron. And she looked like she didn't give a damn. But at the same time, he knew. He knew she knew he was there. He knew that, in a way, she was doing it for him.

He remembered thinking that was stupid. He remembered thinking she couldn't see him, after all. He remembered thinking it was weird how he'd run into her again. He remembered thinking this was a small town and it happened all the time. Inevitably, you caught people in the most peculiar situations. And you slowly realized small towns bred only oddities and you had to accept it as some kind of natural given.

He remembered turning away, leaving, but feeling as if he'd missed something.

What? What had he missed?

Small town teenage girls were no mysteries. Too young, too underfucked, too romantic, probably.

Emma could have turned out just like that one. But Emma escaped in time.

Strange girl would probably be ruined soon, if she _wasn't_ already. Because he felt strange girl wouldn't be an Emma; she wouldn't run.

Something stirred inside him.

He realized he was hard again.

He rolled back on his side and sighed, staring at the ceiling.

"People here are definitely odd," he said, breaking the silence.

But Emma was too far gone now. She was asleep and hadn't heard him.

He thought he might fall asleep too, but the erection kept him painfully sharp and awake. He groaned, shifting in such a way as to alleviate it.

No such luck. The more he moved, the worse it chafed.

After half an hour of struggling, he went in the bathroom, turned on the shower and pulled the curtains.

He leaned his head against the tiles, closed his eyes and let the water fall down his body.

When he started to touch himself, he couldn't help that most of the images that came to mind was of "strange girl", sticking out her tongue while her leg swung in the dirt.

He pulled at his length with more aggression than was necessary.

He just had to get it out of his system.

Sometimes, you saw something or someone and they incited a reaction in you, an irrational, childish reaction. A reaction you wouldn't have under different circumstances. He wasn't thirteen anymore. He just had to wank and get over it.

Once he'd done that, he'd wipe out strange, small town girl from his head for good.

When he came, he didn't growl.

He shrieked, but the water covered the noise.


	3. Chapter 3

_soooo, remember when I said this gets ugly fast?_

_it got ugly fast._

_I'm warning you again because this is going to get pretty disturbing and wrong and dark, so you know, make sure you have an idea what you're getting into. _

_anyway, thanks a bunch to the anonymous reviewers, the two **Guests** and **FlyOverStates**. Glad you're enjoying it so far. _

_I realize this chapter will inevitable alienate some people._

_some of you may even stop reading, but I hope you won't._

_I hope you dive in with me._

* * *

Killian wasn't getting antsy.

He really wasn't.

It's just that, his girlfriend was being more closed-off than usual.

They were having breakfast at Granny's again – he was getting _really_ tired of the place – and he was telling her for the umpteenth time not to worry about him and take her time, that he knew how important this was, that he had nowhere else to be – a "professional" photographer rarely did – but really, he was terribly, _terribly_ tired.

It wasn't that he thought it was pointless for Emma to try and patch things up with the Mayor after so many years. It was the fact that Emma had no intention of doing anything _else_.

She hadn't come here to take her kid back. At least that's what she had told him.

So what was taking so long?

"I don't want you to grow bored. Do something fun while you're here," Emma told him at one point.

Killian raised a skeptical eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I know this place is not _teeming_ with excitement, but maybe you could take some nice pictures. Make an album of Storybrooke. Call it "Emma Swan's completely fucked-up childhood". Something like that."

Killian smirked. "Not a bad start."

* * *

"Aurora! Let me look at you."

Her mother called her back just as she was about to leave the house. She put down her cello case and went into the living room area.

"What now, mom? I'll be late for practice."

Her mother placed a cool hand on her forehead.

"I just want to check if you're feverish."

"I'm not anymore–"

"But you _were_. I can't believe you'd be so reckless! To stand in the rain, like a child. Didn't you think you might catch a cold?"

"I'm completely fine, you know that."

Her mother made a disapproving noise in her throat and went to the medicine cabinet.

"Just to be sure."

Aurora rolled her eyes. Three days before, she had come back from school with a running nose and a small cough and now her mother had the house on full flu-alert.

"Okay, can I go now?"

"Why are you so impatient? You're starting to act younger than your age," her mother chided.

Aurora pulled out her tongue. "Always a kid at heart."

Her mother smiled, shaking her head.

"Have fun at practice."

Aurora practically skipped out of the house. She had spent all of Friday afternoon locked up in her room, pouring over tumblr and fanfiction, and now she inhaled the fresh autumn air with relief. It was good to be outside on a Saturday.

Usually her cello lessons started at ten, but she had time to spare since she had left earlier.

She slowed down and looked around at the still sleeping Storybrooke, wet with dew and smelling of baked bread and gardenias. Anybody else coming into town at this hour would have thought they were dreaming. It didn't feel real. Idyllic as it might have seemed though, Aurora knew that Storybrooke only enchanted you if you stayed for a day or two. After that, you slowly began to realize all that beauty was submerged in bleak and stale monotony.

But that was going to change, wasn't it? Emma Swan was in town.

No more monotony. No more idylls either. There were already signs of restlessness in the air.

Her phone started buzzing.

She checked the screen. New message from Mulan.

_Check it out. Hot Swan boyfriend in town square taking photos._

Aurora stared at the screen for a moment too long. A blush crept into her cheeks. Then a dreadful thought popped into her head.

_What if Mulan knows? What if she sent the message on purpose?_

She shook her head. She was being silly. Mulan was the one who'd called him attractive. She had no idea Aurora thought about him in any way. Besides, she had texted Aurora because her bedroom window faced the town square directly. She had probably noticed him and had decided to tell her friend.

That was all.

The big question now was, should she take her usual route through the town square or sidetrack through several backyards and take the longer path?

_You have time to spare. Don't be stupid. He'll recognize you and think you're weird._

Another, more painful thought, stabbed her briefly.

_What if he doesn't recognize me at all?_

_Why would he? _

_He has no idea who you are._

_And neither do you._

Finally, she decided to take the longer route. It was the responsible, mature thing to do. Even if her mother didn't think so, she _could_ act like an adult.

She was proud of herself. She wasn't going to let a stupid crush turn her into a giggling fourteen-year old again. She was Aurora Stone: the mature, self-possessed, brilliant, eighteen-year old internet hermit who wrote long, analytical posts on favorite characters and television shows and thought Mean Girls was the greatest satire of the 2000s, and she was _not_ going to fall for the older guy gimmick.

_I hope I run into him, though. _

She kept her head high and walked at a normal pace, ignoring the way her insides were churning and the sweaty palms she had to wipe on her skirt. She tried her best not to look left or right and she squashed down the hope of rounding a corner and finding him there.

Because, obviously, she didn't want to find him.

And she _didn't_ find him. In fact, she ran into no one. People were still having breakfast or watching the morning news.

_Good. Yes. Perfect._

…_.._

_Why didn't you pick the other route?_

_Idiot. _

The apartment building where she took her lessons was already looming ahead and no sign of 'Swan hot boyfriend'.

As she walked up the steps and rang the intercom, waiting for Mr. Marco to let her in, she had the strange sensation that she was being watched.

This was nothing new in Storybrooke, where every eye followed you from behind a curtain to make sure they missed no detail of your personal life.

Except that, now, the feeling ran deeper than that.

She turned her head and gazed at the almost empty street.

A couple of children were playing at the bus stop. They didn't yell or laugh, they just sort of ran about, pulling at each other's clothes. An elderly man was taking out the trash. Figures stood at the windows. Eyes glazed over her, never settling on her figure. The town was watching, perhaps, but someone _else_ was watching her.

_Maybe it's him. God, no._

The intercom buzzed.

She opened the door and stepped inside, feeling her stomach drop.

* * *

Killian had almost run into a five-year old, trying to take a photo of her without drawing her attention.

Now, he was leaning against a dirty brick wall, holding his breath as he counted the minutes before he could turn around and walk out of his hiding.

Well, he wasn't hiding per se.

Was he?

No, for Christ's sake, he was just taking photos, like Emma had suggested, and if he so _happened_ to find a subject that interested him, there was nothing wrong about wanting to capture it on film, even if that meant following said subject a mile or two.

And he reasoned, _I didn't follow her. I saw her ahead and decided to see where she was going…There's nothing to do here anyway… I saw her with that cello. She looked sort of funny, sort of mysterious._ _Small town girl playing the cello. There's a story there._

Killian had been trying to find a less scenic spot than the town square all morning. He knew the "real" Storybrooke was hiding beneath all these layers of picturesque. And he had, once again, come across Aurora Stone, the girl who wouldn't leave him. So he'd decided, _yes, that's the real Storybrooke_; this seemingly naïve, but actually astute girl, brimming with hope and youth, both wilting and sparkling with energy. She could be a subject.

_Of course, Emma wasn't like that when she was her age. But she could've been,_ he thought. _She could've been the sad, smart cello girl._

And this was the third time he was running into her.

Maybe he should just say hi and be done with it. Maybe he should ask Emma about strange, cello girl. But what would Emma know? She had left Storybrooke early.

He sighed.

Maybe all he had to do was walk away. Maybe he should just erase all the photos he had taken so far. It just wasn't the kind of morning he had imagined. Not at all.

But he knew he couldn't leave yet.

It wasn't the fact that he had any desire to take photos. He just couldn't leave the spot right away. It would feel like cowardice. It would mean he really had followed her and only her, without any artistic inclination, without any purpose.

It would be some kind of sick admission of guilt.

So he sat on the bench at the bus stop and watched the kids in their silent fight.

Youth, youth was so terrible.

* * *

"Ah, Aurora, I am so sorry to have inconvenienced you but, you see, but my son has just returned and –"

"Say no more, Mr. Marco. I'll come back tomorrow, or next Saturday. Whenever is good. Family first."

"Thank you, Rory. You're a dear. Perhaps next week? In any case, you've made fine progress on your own. Keep it up and we might have to find you someone better than me."

"No one is better, Mr. Marco. I'll see you soon, then. Say hi to your son for me."

* * *

Aurora skipped down the stairs, grinning from ear to ear. Three hours of freedom. True, she had been a little saddened because she liked the way Mr. Marco beamed whenever she hit the right note (which was often, since he was not very demanding), but then again, she now had all this time to herself and could spend it as she chose.

She didn't have to return home yet, her parents wouldn't pester her with unnecessary phone calls and her friends, well… she didn't have to be with them right at this moment.

It was so wonderful to be free when everyone else thought you were busy.

She could walk to the edge of town and dream and wander and be in her own little –

Aurora froze in her tracks.

Right across the street.

There he was.

Sitting on the bench.

Staring straight at her. Waiting.

Aurora remembered this moment well afterwards. It was the moment that changed everything and turned her whole life upside down. It was the moment that sealed her fate.

She could have chosen to turn away and walk back to her house, or just wave in a friendly manner and keep her distance. But she chose differently and it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

The sun came out from the clouds as Aurora walked towards him.

He looked up at her, squinting when the light caught his eye. She stopped in front of him, flushed and scared, but resolute in her choice. She would talk to him.

"Are you stalking me?" was the first thing that blurted out of her mouth.

She could have kicked herself. Out of all the normal things you say to someone…why couldn't she go with _hey_?

Killian was lost for a moment, but then he smirked and laughed and she felt relieved.

"I was going to ask you the same question."

"Well…_you_ came into _my_ town."

Killian raised his hands. "Guilty as charged."

Aurora smiled and found that maybe it wasn't so terrible or hard to talk to the older guy she had a crush on.

"I have this pesky thing with me, you see," he said, pointing at his camera. "It won't let me go about my business."

Aurora raised an eyebrow.

"You were taking pictures of me?"

"Well, _of_ you, yes, but I'm afraid the whole town is involved."

"So you're a photographer?"

"You catch on quickly."

"Well, you haven't picked a great spot," she said, looking down at her cello case.

"On the contrary, from where I'm looking, it's not half-bad," he spoke and he looked straight at her with a strange glint in his eye.

Aurora opened her mouth twice and closed it each time, not knowing how to reply to that.

Killian realized he had made her uneasy with his flirting. He dropped the smile. He wasn't supposed to flirt with cello girl. Talk and befriend, sure, maybe. Not flirt.

It wasn't his fault he was almost _wired_ to sweet-talk most of the women in his life.

"Killian," he said, extending his hand in a cordial manner.

"Aurora. Rory," she exhaled, relieved, and grabbed his hand rather awkwardly.

_God, what if he laughs at my sweaty palms?_

_Stop it. Be cool. _

" 'Rora," he mouthed, tasting the name on his lips. "Dawn's goddess. Fitting."

Aurora smiled. "Right. But I don't expect you to call me that."

Killian burst into laughter. "You're a bit clever, aren't you?"

Aurora felt elated. He thought she was funny and smart and mature.

"I suppose," she answered, affecting nonchalance.

But it wasn't working. Her eyes kept straying to his eyes and lips, as if they were magnets pulling her in.

Killian wasn't even trying to avoid her stare. In fact, on some level, she felt he was encouraging it.

"Practice?" he asked, staring at her cello case.

"Cancelled," she offered immediately.

"Are you any good at it?"

"I suppose..."

"Do you answer all questions that way?" he teased.

She smiled ruefully. "No. Sometimes I like to add a "it's none of your business" after."

Killian shook his head. "You're trouble."

Aurora thought "trouble" was a delightful addition to the already positive image she had engendered.

"Are you going to take more photos?" she asked, trying to fill up the silence.

"I don't know, I'm not in the mood anymore," he said, looking down.

"What are you in the mood for, then?" she asked boldly. She wasn't going to ask him out or anything ludicrous like that. She just wanted to be smart and fun and mature and _trouble_. Because he was like that, too.

Killian rubbed his hands together. He did not reply.

Aurora panicked. She had said something wrong. She had botched it up.

He probably thought she was silly and ridiculous.

He'd get up and leave her right there and then.

And he did. He did get up.

She felt her heart jump in her throat. What could she say to keep him at her side?

"Killian…" she began, apologetically, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

But he didn't wait for her to finish that sentence. He grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the bus stop. He did not look at her. He walked fast, straight ahead.

Aurora felt pulled to an inevitable end. She could not fight it, even if she tried.

And she didn't want to fight it.

For the first time in her life, something was happening to her. And that something was gorgeous and older and a photographer.

He pulled her into an alley – the same alley he had hidden into before – and grabbed her upper arm firmly, as if she were going to take flight. Then he leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips. Her head was thrown back by the intensity of the sudden contact. It wasn't like she had pictured it in her head. She had been kissed before by some boys, but it had been a kind of compromise: _we both know we suck at this so we're going to try our hardest_. But Killian had grabbed her like a man that was on the run and had stopped just for her, now. You don't get second chances, or practices, or tries.

You get this. Only this.

She parted her lips instantly – from surprise or desire, she didn't know – but he quickly snaked his tongue into her mouth, filling all her senses. He attacked her viciously, unkindly almost, as if he didn't care whether she was there or not. She was just her mouth right now. She moved her tongue against his shyly, but he squeezed it bit into it, hard. A yelp of pain came out muffled. He didn't seem to care.

It was quick and short-lived, because he pulled back after a couple of seconds.

Aurora felt cold all over. Her tongue hurt. Her whole body felt like it had received a blow. She thought he'd be mad, or worse, leave her there.

But he cupped her cheeks and smiling, uttered a small "sorry, got carried away", and dived in for a second kiss. This one was far gentler and deeper. He seemed to have realized he was hurting her. He opened her mouth completely, but didn't take up so much space or bite her tongue. He waited for her to move her mouth against his. He let her explore him, timidly and slowly. He tasted like scrambled eggs, gum, aftershave, cigarettes and something that was only him.

She dropped her cello case on the ground.

The soft, gentle kissing continued for some moments, but soon enough, he lost control again and bit into her lip, grabbing her by the neck and intensifying the kiss once more. Aurora moaned into his mouth, because she had not expected the sudden change of temperature. Hot-warm-hot. It made her head spin. His hand was now in her hair, pulling and tugging and making her scalp burn as he yanked the tangled knots. She was sure he'd end up with a fistful of her hair by the end.

Before she knew what was happening, she was pressed against a brick wall – the same brick wall he had rested against – while his other hand landed on her hip, traveling upwards bit by bit, until he reached the base of her breasts.

Aurora gasped when she felt his hand right there and she squirmed into his grasp, not sure if she liked it or not. His fingers did not go further. They stayed in the same spot, cupping her right breast gently and she felt a sudden pang of frustration because her nipple had grown hard and yet his hand was still and warm and _not_ moving. Somehow, this frustration traveled to her mouth because she accidentally bit his nose when he tried to kiss her again.

Killian yelped in pain and pressed his hand to his nose. Aurora's eyes widened in terror.

"S-Sorry."

His eyes were glazed over with want and lust and a kind of wild, irrational excitement she hadn't seen before.

"Turn around."

It wasn't a request. She stared at him.

"Turn around."

Aurora would realize later this was the second time in her life things could have changed irrevocably. If she had just laughed in his face and turned around and walked away, she would be fine now.

But she didn't. Scared, excited, happy, delirious, she turned around and locked her arms to her chest.

"Right. I'll show you what happens when you bite my nose."

For a brief and terrible moment, Aurora thought he was going to hurt her. She thought he was going to make her stand there while he took her from behind.

But suddenly, his hand was parting her legs and going up her skirt. Then, he stuck his hand inside her stockings, until he found her panties and then…

She could feel his breath on her neck, could actually sense his presence behind her, panting, struggling to keep control. His mouth was in her hair.

His fingers dwelled a little on her swollen clitoris.

"Good," he mouthed quietly.

When he started moving his fingers, Aurora closed her eyes and pressed her hot cheek against the cold brick wall.

He started slowly, but just like with the kiss, he ended up losing his patience and he moved his fingers fast, in a cruel and continuous motion, both hurting and arousing her.

She arched back into him, moaning softly as she became wetter and wetter and, as her body collided with his she could feel his erection poking through his jeans and the thought of it disgusted and fascinated her all the same. She realized he was rubbing himself against her skirt.

Her breath hitched in her throat when he quickened his movements. She would not last long and he knew it.

When she cried out, it was a strangled scream that sounded like a wounded bird's song. He placed his hand over her mouth, silencing her.

She kept moaning into his mouth as the orgasm subsided.

Slowly, he removed his palm from her mouth and his fingers from her folds and drew back, allowing her space to recover herself.

She stood there, transfixed and amazed. She kept breathing but could feel no intake of air. Only after a full minute did she dare look at him.

He looked like a changed man.

He was staring at her with panic-stricken eyes.

"Jesus, Aurora, I'm so sorry."

Aurora shook her head, but she didn't trust herself to speak.

"I'm sorry, I just – God, I've never done this before, you have to believe me," he said, picking up her cello case.

She took it from him, her hand trembling.

"This has never happened to me, I don't even know _what_ happened." He rubbed his hands over his eyes as if he couldn't grasp what was happening.

Aurora clutched her cello case and took a step towards him.

She was going to tell him she didn't know either, that she had lost her senses too, but that it had been worth it, because it had been _good_. But reality was not as clean-cut, not as _good_. Maybe some parts had hurt. And maybe some parts had scared her. It was part of growing up. Of being older. And she liked feeling older. She liked growing up if it meant _this_.

But she couldn't say it yet. Any of it.

So instead, she bolted.

Just like the first time, she turned around and ran.

She thought he would yell at her. Try to stop her.

But he didn't.

And she didn't look back to check.

She just ran, with tears in her eyes. She didn't know if she was crying out of happiness or despair.

All she knew is that she had crossed a line she could never un-cross.

The monotony had been broken and Emma Swan had had nothing to do with it.


	4. Chapter 4

_well, I see most of you haven't left, so I'm glad :)_

_warning again that this chapter will **not** be "pretty". by now you've figured out where this is all going, so make sure you're okay with what's happening here._

_many thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed and likewise to the anonymous reviewers/people I can't PM: **FlyOverStates** - yeah, be ready for more surprises this chapter :), **Guest** - thanks!, **jdubb** - haven't stopped yet, so you're in luck :), **Terpsichore** - don't worry, there is a fourth chapter now:) and I'm really happy you're excited about it:) _

_so, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!_

* * *

The remainder of her weekend was spent in a state of turmoil and excitement.

On the one hand, Aurora felt miserable. On the other, she felt elated. She had crossed some unspoken line into sexual adulthood and it terrified her as much as it pleased her. A grown man had exhibited a need for her body. At the same time, he had given her pleasure, too. And they had both consented to it, hadn't they?

It had been a shared experience.

Then why did she feel so empty? Why did she feel so _alone_ in this?

That was the problem, after all. If there had only been that initial giddiness, maybe she would have been fine. Maybe she would have even rationalized the fact that Killian had technically cheated on his girlfriend with her.

But she couldn't find excuses for the way her body cringed at the memory of her orgasm. She could barely own up to it, but the reality was, she felt dirty and used. And someone like her, who had read so much on the subject and was theoretically well-informed, knew there was nothing to be ashamed of. And yet, she felt it all the same. And it had nothing to do with the guilt she felt towards Emma Swan.

If she had to find the right word for it, she would say she felt _cheated_, as if she had been deprived of something elementary in the experience. Namely, this was not how things were supposed to go, even if you got involved with someone older. Somehow, that older person should have known, from experience, how to handle you. They should have been kinder and more generous.

Hadn't he been generous, though? He had shown her so much passion and need, even though he had been cruel and careless in the same measure.

She kept grativating between blaming him and exonorating him, between feeling ashamed and feeling proud. And she could never find solid ground.

She either felt like she could reach the sky, or that she had sunk lower than a gutter rat.

* * *

Eventually, she had to get out of her room on Monday for school.

Her parents had pestered her all throughout Sunday evening to join them in the living room for their weekly family TV time, but she had given the excuse that the flu was back, which had given her mother ample opportunity to say "I told you so" and feed her with pills until she felt so sleepy that she was exempt from family activities anyway.

Now, in the bright and unforgiving light of morning, Aurora realized she might really be sick. She felt nauseous all over and her head was pounding. Everything bothered her, from the color of her stockings, to the sharp edge of her notebooks. Every smell, every touch seemed like a violation on her senses.

"We might have to get you to a doctor, after all," her father said, watching her worriedly as she picked at her breakfast wanly.

"Might be time for it," her mother agreed. "You look worse."

"Gee, thanks, that'll really help my self-esteem," she muttered darkly.

Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"What's with the sarcasm, young lady? You're not usually so petulant."

"Mondays are a drag," she said as an excuse, trying to appear more amiable.

Her father smiled. "I can vouch for that. No need to let it get to you, kiddo."

"You know what might cheer you up?" her mother asked, pouring her another glass of juice. "A free Thursday night to spend however you like."

Aurora frowned. "What do you mean?"

Her mother laughed. "George, call the press. It's the first time Aurora's forgotten about the Annual Storybrooke Gala."

Aurora blanked. "Oh, right. _That_."

Every year around this time, Storybrooke would celebrate its Founding Day with a round of festivities that concluded in a ball thrown by the Mayor and held at her house. Young people were welcome to join the Gala, but unlike thirty years ago, they were no longer _made_ to, which translated into a free pass for them to do whatever they pleased that night. The town police was also more careful with underage drinking and other such shenanigans as well. It was one of those small town things that you didn't fully understand unless you were part of it.

Aurora usually enjoyed Founding Day, but right now she couldn't remember what she enjoyed about it. Every year she hung out with Phil and Mulan and it was never very eventful. It was pleasant, but nothing special. It was _nice_. And somehow, nice had become a foreign word.

* * *

"Is it time for another intervention or are you gonna tell us what happened?"

Aurora blinked.

Mulan and Phil had cornered her at her locker and were not letting her go to her next class.

"Uh, guys, aren't we supposed to meet at lunch?"

"You've been weird all morning," Phil butted in. "What gives?"

Aurora laughed uneasily. "You guys are paranoid, that's what gives."

Mulan and Phil exchanged a glance.

"So, when you disappeared all weekend that was just us being paranoid."

"I _hardly_ disappeared all weekend. I needed some alone time, that's all. And it was only two days!"

"And you couldn't bother to message us to buzz off or something?" Mulan asked. "All you had to do was tell us -"

"I figured I didn't _have_ to, I mean Jesus we all live minutes away, what could possibly happen in such a short time?" Aurora exclaimed, trying hard to keep her voice down.

Phil and Mulan gaped at her.

"I'm sorry, but sometimes I feel we're acting like toddlers who can't be alone for two minutes! Stop looking at me like I did some heinous crime just because I didn't call back!" she snapped, grabbing her bag and slamming her locker shut.

"Fine. You wanna be alone? Be alone," Phil retorted and grabbed Mulan by the arm, as they both marched down the hallway away from her.

Aurora sighed and slummed back against her locker, closing her eyes in frustration.

Why was everything going so _wrong_ today?

* * *

It kept getting worse. She couldn't focus in class. She botched up most of her history notes. She could barely stand still. She sat alone at lunch. She didn't even look around to check if her friends were nearby. She kept her head low and ate in silence, thinking about being back in bed, wrapped up in her blanket, alone and asleep. All she wanted was to sleep.

She drudged on blearily through two more classes before she was finally able to escape.

Out in the street, she already felt a bit better. Maybe all she needed was a cup of tea at Granny's. The sky was dark again, but it didn't look like rain. The world was moving by slowly, people were going home from work, or going shopping, or picking up their kids from school, children were running on the playground, saying goodbye, or running to the bus stop to meet their neighbors and it all felt quaint and normal.

Storybrooke could either drive you insane or put you in a trance and sometimes one was exactly like the other.

She took out her phone. She'd text Phil. He had seemed more upset than Mulan. She'd text a simple _I'm sorry._ She knew he didn't like sugarcoating. Then, she'd write him a message on facebook about how much of an idiot she had been. She was already making out the words in her head (_I was a complete jerk to you both just because I – just because I'm going through a phase and you don't deserve to be treated this way…_) when she chanced to look up.

He was standing near the entrance to the grocery store across the street, tapping his foot impatiently.

By the looks of it, he had been waiting for her to come out.

He saw her and motioned towards the store with his head. He didn't expect a yes or no. It wasn't a question. She was meant to follow.

Aurora kept walking, though. She thought, _if I can reach the corner of the street, I'm out_.

But a few seconds later, she turned and ran towards the grocery store, the apology to her friends forgotten.

* * *

She didn't find him easily. The grocery store was the largest on the block and she walked aimlessly through aisles of products, wondering if she should also get something for home. Absurdly, she wondered if she should call her mother and ask.

Killian was somewhere further back, hidden well between the pets' aisle and cleaning products section.

He was browsing some new kind of bleacher, pretending to look interested, all the while watching for her from the corner of his eye.

Aurora approached him warily.

"You – you wanted to talk?"

Killian nodded his head, still looking at the bleacher.

"Go to the opposite aisle, _please_. You can still hear me."

Aurora was startled by the "please". They had only talked once properly, but it was as if politeness had never figured into the idea of him and her.

She nodded her head. It made sense they wouldn't talk straight in the open. For one, people around them would be curious to hear what they were saying. It was inevitable. And she didn't want anyone telling Emma Swan she had seen her talking to her boyfriend.

When Killian was sure they could talk without drawing attention, he cleared his throat and, keeping his voice low, finally spoke.

"You probably must think the worst of me, Aurora."

Aurora frowned, looking down at a dog toy she had picked up. She could see his hair jutting out from above a large vat of detergent, but not his face.

"I don't."

"You _should_ think the worst of me. That was inexcusable what I did. I'm sorry I dragged you in here, but I didn't know how to talk to you – to tell you how awfully sorry I am."

Aurora felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at his words. She didn't know which was stronger.

"Killian –"

"I took advantage of you – I was – It was completely _wrong _of me. You're in high school for Christ's sake."

"I'm eighteen, actually," she replied, embarrassed.

"Regardless, Aurora, that's almost half my age. I was the one who acted like a fucking teenager."

She heard the anger in his voice, boiling to the surface, rolling off in waves of emotion that hit her body with a strange kind of warmth. He was talking about them as if it were something _forbidden_. She was forbidden to him, he was forbidden to her. And her mind jumped wildly in place at the various connotations that word incited.

Because in the first few moments, _forbidden_ sounded like the forbidden fruit, not like a social and emotional condition that she would later have to deal with.

She didn't have to think about it, she just had to _feel_ it.

"I'm always going to be sorry for what I did, you realize that," he added, more soberly.

"I'm not upset, Killian. You don't have to be sorry, I – it was my fault, too," she said quickly, squeezing the rubber toy hard. "Well, not my _fault_. That's a bad way of putting it. I wanted to, you know, kiss you and - I was into it, too. I participated willingly."

Killian shook his head. "You didn't know what you were doing."

"That's not true…" she trailed off, dumping the toy back in its container. But she wasn't so sure. The statement itself confused her. Does _anyone_ ever know what they're doing? Did he know what he was doing, right now?

"I don't know how to make it up to you," he continued, his voice strained from the effort, "except to assure you I won't ever bother you again. I hope – I hope you'll agree with me that we should never speak of it again."

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. She exhaled, but no air came out.

Relief or disappointment? Relief or disappointment?

"Aurora?"

_What_? What was she feeling? Why couldn't she say it? Why couldn't she say, _yes Killian, of course, it never happened. It's fine. It was just a one-time thing – So what if you didn't just kiss me? So what if you slammed into me and I felt you and you touched me inside? I don't care about that, I've had boys touch me everywhere, I've lived a full life before you. You didn't come here to unlock me, you didn't come here with some great big secret, I know very well – _

"Aurora."

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone if that's what you're scared of."

She could hear the frustrated sigh coming out of his mouth as he spoke the next words.

" 'Rora, that's not what I meant and you know it. I don't want you to think – _God_, I don't want you to think I'm hiding this because I'm trying to save face. This isn't about my reputation, or my relationship. This is about how shitty it would turn out for the both of us, especially you, if others found out. Can you imagine? You're on your way to college, to great things and a great life and I came here because my girlfriend is on a fucking life quest. I was never even meant to be _here_. And you certainly should get _out_ of here. But what I'm saying is that, we're two people who were never supposed to meet, much less –. And it makes no sense to let the world know anything about _us_, when we're never going to see each other again, anyway."

Aurora mulled over his words in silence. They were never going to see each other again. She was heading off to college. He was leaving soon. Of course, it made all the sense in the world.

"You're right," she said, feeling like she would throw up any moment. "You're right. I know, that's what I was thinking too. I was going to tell you the same thing, actually, so I'm glad we had this talk."

Good, good. She was almost out of here anyway.

"You really think so?" he asked, hope and relief seeping into his voice.

Aurora clenched her fists. "Sure. I mean I had time to think about it at home. After it happened, I thought it would be better if you just left and I never saw you again. After it happened, I just wanted to forget."

"I understand…"

Aurora laughed bitterly.

"I wanted to forget about your fingers inside me, I wanted to forget about your tongue slipping down my throat –"

"Aurora, please, don't…"

"I wanted to forget how you pushed me up against that wall and told me to turn around, I wanted to forget how you ground against me, I wanted to forget how I got off in your hands, but you know, maybe I'll never forget, maybe I'll just have to remember it all my life while you and your girlfriend backpack across the country, so – so maybe you should stop telling me what to do and just go fuck yourself," she stammered out blindly, feeling hot white rage pouring out of every pore. She had never been so angry in her life.

Killian was shocked into silence.

She didn't wait to hear his reply.

She pushed her way out of the aisle mechanically, her body still numb and unresponsive from the effort she had put into getting it all out. Her limbs were trying to catch up with her violent state of mind, but it was as if she was walking in slow motion. She felt tears in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. Frightened of making a scene, she quickly ducked inside a storage room that said STAFF ONLY on it.

She leaned against one of the metal casings and pressed both palms to her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears, trying to push all these horrible thoughts and feelings out of her, make them lie back down in the darkness until she was completely alone. She didn't even know why she was so furious, why she was so miserable. She didn't even _like_ him. No, she probably hated him by now.

He was a jerk, an asshole, a shithead, a dick, every possible word that came to mind, he was all those things. He had been selfish and cruel and horrible. And she wanted him dead and gone.

And she wouldn't even miss him, because how can you miss someone you've just met?

The door opened with a click. She should have locked it. She should have wanted to lock it.

Killian _did_ lock it, after he closed it shut.

Aurora glared at him, eyes slightly red and smudged around the rims. He had expected to find her crying. But he had expected a more compelling sight; maybe trembling lips, hands balled into fists, a hurt and fragile expression on her face, the perfect image of righteousness and stolen innocence.

Instead, she was glaring like a woman scorned, like someone you did not want to fuck with. Like someone who expected you to kneel and say you're sorry. She didn't look innocent or righteous. She just looked _pissed_.

Her face was saying "you started something and you didn't finish it".

It was saying, "you didn't steal anything, _I_ let you have it."

Killian licked his lips nervously, suddenly more unsure of himself than he had been two days before.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her voice raw.

Killian stepped up to her. His voice was begging her.

"You know I'm fucked up, Aurora. You _must_ know that. I'm the most fucked up asshole there is."

She nodded her head. "Yeah. I think I got that. Anything else?"

He bent his head and placed both hands on the metal shelf above her head, capturing her between his arms.

Aurora felt herself getting wet just by standing there like that.

When she tipped his chin up and pecked him on the lips, he didn't respond.

She pulled the lapels of his coat and tried to press her lips against his again, but he wouldn't budge.

"Why aren't you…"

That's when his left hand suddenly gripped the hem of her shirt and his right hand tore off the fabric until all the buttons popped off. Aurora gasped in shock.

Killian wasn't looking at her. His hands were on her thighs and before she knew what was happening, he had raised her up on one of the shelves and his mouth was on her breasts. He pulled out the bra angrily, tossing it to the floor and found her nipple.

Aurora had to bite on her tongue hard not to scream from the second shock.

His tongue and teeth teased her sensitive flesh with the same merciless, predatory skill he had done the first time. Aurora dipped her head back and tugged at his hair as his lips moved to her other breast.

He grabbed it in his fist and squeezed hard before biting into it angrily, making her yelp with pain.

She didn't know if she could get off on him just sucking her nipples, but she was awfully close.

Her legs clenched around his own, toes curling inside out in a similar motion to Killian's ministrations.

She noticed he was getting impatient, as if the rest of her clothes were physical obstacles. He wanted all of it off. He started unrolling her stockings until they fell down to her knees. Then he pulled her skirt up, but she stopped his hands.

"Not here – Killian – oh, Jesus –"

It was too late. Her skirt was hitched up to her throat and he was already on his knees.

She closed her eyes, gripping the edges of the shelf to prepare herself. His beard was tickling her mound. Then his tongue swiped once or twice testingly over her clitoris, tasting her slowly and gently. Almost too gently. He inhaled her deeply, burying his nose inside her.

She shrank with embarrassment, but he made a noise in his throat, a kind of angry growl that warned her not to act coy again.

She knew she was already very wet, so when he began lapping at her juices, moving his tongue swiftly around in small circles, she could only buckle against him and hope that she'd last long enough to really _feel_ what it was like to have his tongue down there.

But she didn't get to enjoy it for too long.

Someone was knocking at the door, pressing down on the knob.

Aurora panicked, her body going cold.

Killian was quicker. He got up and in one quick movement, pulled her skirt down her body again and picked up her bra from the floor. Aurora stuffed it into her school bag and started buttoning her coat over her exposed breasts.

She looked up at him warily. His lips still glistened from _her_. She would have liked to kiss him, but there was no time.

"Anyone in there? Hello?" the person called out. "Garry! Garry, where did you put that damn key again?!"

Aurora gripped Killian's hand tight. He squeezed back, but didn't look at her. They were both staring at the door, like rabbits caught in a trap.

Then the voice drifted off and moved away, leaving them alone again.

"You go out first, quickly. Get out of the store as fast as you can. I'll stay here and deal with them," he whispered urgently in her ear.

Before she opened the door, she turned one last time towards him and, cheeks flushed, whispered:

"Thursday night. I'm free."

Then she bolted out, her heart in her throat.


End file.
